


Rabbit Heart

by starswholisten



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Gen, Nesta POV, mentions of trauma, mid-ACOTAR
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 10:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10462551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starswholisten/pseuds/starswholisten
Summary: Nesta decides to go to the Wall, to Prythian, to save her youngest sister from the wicked faerie who kidnapped her.





	

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm determined to get as much Nesta character analysis in before ACOWAR as I can. This will be a two-shot and very angsty.

_The looking glass, so shiny and new,_  
_How quickly the glamour fades,_  
_I start spinning, slipping out of time,_  
_Was that the wrong pill to take?_  
\-- Florence  & The Machine

The cold winter rain pelted into my skin like icy shards of glass, but I had to keep running. I placed one foot after the other, focusing on my breathing, my steps pounding into the mud as it splashed up onto my dress. The mud found its way into the rip that revealed my bare torso to the weather and elements, mocking me. Physically dirtying me where I already felt dirty enough as it was. But I kept running. I held my bodice together with numb hands and I just kept running.

Villages faded in the fog of the frigid rainstorm as I ran, blurring behind me, blurring like my old life, like my understanding of how I got here and how things had changed so quickly. I ran from that reality even as I ran toward it, toward my family and my home and all of the many lies I now had to tell them.

Pain laced through my side and I stumbled, clutching my dress harder, a frustrated groan escaping from my throat. This was the most I had ever exerted myself, but if I couldn’t power through a stitch in my side… I certainly wasn’t going to survive what I had to do. Where I had to go… where I never thought I’d ever have to go...

Where I’d be going alone.

 _Mad_. He’d called me mad. And I almost believed that I was. I could feel my own mind betraying me every time I could stomach to look into the brown, dull eyes of my father, and every time I looked into the same eyes of my sister. Their ignorance, their carefree acceptance of the events of the last week made my skin crawl with rage, with guilt, with fear. I was near the breaking point more than once before I saw the claw marks on the wooden table and I remembered. Now that table was gone - abandoned in the cottage we’d moved from only days ago. But that ruined, long-ago faded blue flower and the scratch through it was the only reminder that my mind wasn’t betraying me - it was rather the only part of me that wasn’t crumbling. What happened to my sister was real. This was real.

So I’d gone back. I’d trudged four villages away in the wintery cold, not bothering to fetch a carriage lest my sister ask questions, and I chopped the clawed piece of wood away from the table before meeting with Tomas.

I shuddered, water soaking through the hem of my dress as I ran through a puddle. A week ago, I’d been grumbling about chopping a bit of wood, reserving my pride, yet desiring to become a woodcutter’s wife, and now -

The ripping of fabric echoed in my ears. Over and over and over, and I ran faster.

The manor loomed before me as the rain began to fall harder, plastering my hair to my face. I stomped past Elain’s garden, hoping I hadn’t trampled any of her new plants too badly, and burst through the front door. Stopping dead in my tracks, I surveyed the front hall. I thanked all of the forgotten gods that father was nowhere to be found, that we’d yet to hire any full time servants. It was after dusk, and surely they would be gone for the night.

Flames roared in the fireplace, though, which meant I wasn’t alone. I choked back a deep, shuttering breath as my mind raced, wondering at the excuses I would use to explain where I would be going tomorrow, to explain my current state-

 _Mad_.

This wasn’t how my life was supposed to be. I wasn’t supposed to have spent eight years of my youth holed up in a hovel in the dirt with a father who didn’t care if I lived or died. I wasn’t supposed to be dependent on my younger sister to feed and clothe me because my pride was too strong to care for that father. I wasn’t supposed to be unable to protect our other sister, the one who needed me most. I wasn’t supposed to be dependent on anyone, anyone but myself, especially not a man who I thought loved me, who was supposed to marry me to protect me and support me but would rather just take me and-

Fabric and lace tearing, once, twice, three times. Love wasn’t real. It was a myth, a weakness. Better to transfer those emotions into action - to protection, to loyalty, to rescue. And better to expect nothing in return.

I’d been so naive to trust someone, after everything my father hadn’t done for us, after the way the people in our town treated us like filth and after those creditors had ruined our lives. I should never have hoped he would care, should never have asked him to help, should never have expected anyone to believe me-

I shivered and forced my frozen hand from my pocket, the piece of wood clutched so hard in my fingers that I would likely have a splinter. I focused on the paint, on the chipped dull blue of the flower and the claw marks around it.

 _Pull yourself together, Nesta._ I had to go. For my sister, for the only person who ever bothered to care about me.

I didn’t attempt to clean the mud off of myself before stumbling up the stairs and into my bedroom.

The moment I unzipped my dress, it fell to a sagging heap on the floor in ribbons of soggy, torn fabric. I kicked it away forcefully, not wanting to look at it, at the evidence of my shame and my stupidity. Teeth chattering, I sat down hard on the rug before my own personal fireplace, trying not to hate myself for what Feyre had to do to get us back here, back to our former riches, back to luxury and carefree wealth that my father didn’t deserve. That I didn’t deserve.

I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering in just my modest underclothes, still wet from the rain and still nauseated from running so fast. But I needed to plan. I needed to prepare. I needed to wake at dawn and sneak out of town, I had to find a way to elude Elain and my father, and I had to fix this wrong. One day to prepare, two days to the wall. And after that…

After that, what? I’d never survive on my own in Prythian. Even if I had managed to find help getting to the wall, there was no telling what would lay beyond. And yet my sister was there, likely imprisoned, likely being tortured. Maybe she wasn’t even alive. But I couldn’t leave that up to chance, I _had_ to find out. It wasn’t right, none of this was right-

“Nesta?"

I whipped my head around to find Elain in my doorway, rosy-cheeked and frowning, her hair braided into a plait down her back and her yellow gown clean and dry and expensive. I turned back to look at the fire.

“Nesta,” she said again, more urgently. I heard her footsteps quicken as she crossed the room and sat down next to me, paying no mind to the puddle of filth surrounding me, to the mud all over the carpet. “Why are you crying? What in the world-"

I shrugged her off as soon as her hands reached toward my face to wipe away tears that I hadn’t realized were there. “I’m fine. Just got caught in the storm.” I frowned at her, my naive, sweet, innocent sister. One sister safe, the other… I shuddered. “Leave me alone."

Elain did no such thing. She continued to stare at me with an incredulous look on her face, but I couldn’t bear to look into her eyes. Not now. I went to reach in my pocket to clutch the piece of our table before I realized I’d left it in the gown that was strewn across the floor behind me. A choked sob escaped my throat and I cursed my own body for betraying my emotions.

“Nesta, where were you? Why were you in the rain? Why is your dress-“ Elain’s attention averted to the shredded mess that was formerly a brand new green gown and placed a delicate hand over her mouth. “What happened?"

“I went to the village,” I replied, hoping that would be enough to explain why I was soaking wet. It was a long walk, and it hadn’t been raining when I departed this morning.

Elain nodded absently. “To see Tomas?” I twitched involuntarily at the mention of his name and Elain caught on to the gesture. "Is he why you’re so upset?"

“I ended things,” I muttered.

“Oh, Nesta-"

I trudged on, gritting my teeth. “He’s a peasant. A second son.” She looked at me questioningly, sensing my lie, and I tried not to appear angry at her perceptiveness. But she didn’t pry, perhaps believing that I was indeed cold enough to let status alone dictate my heart, when in reality I had gone to him believing that love could endure regardless of social class. That love meant he would help me, protect me. I was wrong. About a lot of things.

It seemed so long ago that marrying myself off, marrying Elain off, seemed the best solution to all of our problems. Now I just wanted to warn her that men were worthless, that none of them deserved her kind heart, but I didn’t want to let on any further details than I already had.

I just needed her to leave me alone to think. I had supplies to pack and excuses to make up and the fact that she didn’t know, that she was under one of their faerie spells and I couldn’t ask her to help made it harder to sit there next to her and gather the motivation to do what I had to do.

But she only shifted closer to me, resting a hand on my arm. I flinched, and she drew it away quickly. “Nesta-"

“I need to bathe,” I stood up quickly and swept past her and into my personal bathing room, locking my heart behind further layers of walls and cages as she continued to call my name.

I slid down into a crouch and pressed my back against the shut door almost as I heard Elain doing the same on the other side. I stared into the full length mirror across from me and took in my sorry state. My eyes were puffy, my hair strewn about in wet, ugly strands of brassy brown, the blue-grey of my eyes too bold and innocent-looking for what had just happened. Even my underclothes were muddy, though not shorn as my dress had been - I’d gotten away before he’d had the chance. I knew most weren’t so lucky.

I heard Elain sigh, not impatiently, as I tore my gaze from my reflection and found an interesting spot on the floor to look at instead. But there was no avoiding my sister's insistent concern. I knew she meant well, knew she would be the only one to understand if I pretended to feel sad about breaking off my relationship with Tomas, but... that wasn’t important. Not now, not when wicked faeries had taken my youngest sister and tried to wipe all of our memories of it. Tried to make us forget about her, to make us go on with our lives as if Feyre didn’t matter. I made a sound like a low growl in my throat as I choked down another sob, and slammed my fist into the ground in frustration.

“Nesta,” Elain said quietly, and I pressed my now throbbing hand to my face in shame at how I was shutting her out, just like I shut them all out. My own sister.

“I know you. I know you’re more upset than you let on. You loved him,” she went on, in that gentle, understanding voice of hers that I both resented and adored about her. "Everything will be okay. We can do something fun tomorrow…” I scoffed loud enough for her to hear, but she continued on. “We can go to the market? I know you’ve been wary about it since seeing the Children of the Blessed and that frightening mercenary Feyre sold her pelts to, but…"

The mercenary.

I tuned Elain out. The mercenary… A warrior, a woman who herself had seen faeries, had been attacked by them, had fought them and lived.

That was it.

I had to find the mercenary. She was the only one who would believe me. She was the only one who might be able to help me get to the Wall, and get to Feyre.

And as much as I didn’t want to rely on anyone, to trust anyone but myself… this was the only way I’d be able to find my sister. And I would do what it took to step up where father and Elain wouldn’t - where they couldn’t, not with their memories glamoured - and I would protect the only person who had ever protected me.

Elain had stopped talking, and I stood slowly and opened the bathroom door. She jolted up, looking into my eyes with concern, and I closed mine momentarily to steel myself.

“I think,” I started, finding that my voice was steadier and gentler that I’d expected, “I might go visit Feyre. This transition has just been… difficult. Without the whole family here.”

My sister nodded sympathetically, a hand reaching out to touch my shoulder before she thought twice about it and dropped her arm to her side. “I’m sure she’d like that. She must be struggling too, with Aunt Ripleigh so ill. I’ll come with you-"

“No,” I interjected, and continued quickly after noting the confusion on Elain’s face. “I- We can’t leave father here. Alone.” I stumbled over my half-thought out excuse and rubbed my arms against the nervous chills echoing over my skin. My heart clenched to lie to her, to utilize her easy-trusting nature to my advantage. “He’s still having a hard time maneuvering, with his leg, and- and the servants aren’t around to help him yet. I want to leave tomorrow morning, Elain. Please.” I was begging now. Maybe I was going mad.

She nodded fervently, as if I were fragile and would break again with any inkling of protest. I was almost grateful for it, if I weren’t so ashamed. Elain didn’t even bother to ask why I suddenly cared about our father’s well-being.

“First thing tomorrow, then,” she chirped; all was right again in her world. "I’ll get a carriage for you.” And then she bounded off, down the stairs, and left me to finally plan my impossible mission to Prythian.

I took a deep steadying breath as I watched her go, and promptly padded over to my now rag of a dress, picked it up, and tossed it unceremoniously into the fire. I watched it burn, the lace curling in on itself as the fabric smoldered and filled my bedroom with a surprisingly comforting earthen scent.

I would need no dresses where I was going.

**Author's Note:**

> title from the Florence & The Machine song.


End file.
